Hopper Poems - Poems about Hopper

He zings through tall grasses and lands on my knee I try my best to pull this sticky legged insect off me He chortles and chuckles and pings off in the wind. This hopper of grasses surely has annoyed and sinned. Another one of these pests zings onto my shirt. Giving me the willies, I scream at my cousin Bert Get...

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. . . . . . .s i t u a t i o n s* . . . . ....

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"Maybe I am not very human - what I wanted to do was to paint sunlight on the side of a house. There is a sort of elation about sunlight on the upper part of a house. Though I may influence genius, the only real influence I've ever had was myself. No amount of skilful...

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He jumps on at the top And the hopper bucks and kicks But he is a resilient mouse Whose knees are truly thick He holds on past the daisies The buttercups, and a daffodil He never falls off, While riding down this hill....

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You can walk right into this image. Stand there near the typewriter if you like. Edward Hopper has allowed plenty of room. Although he has filled the space very well, As it is a small office, and her desk is also there. It suits the feeling of closeness without being cramped. A secretary, back in the day was...

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Colorful hopper skips along with a song His plaid trousers stretched big and long Grasses see him coming along their way His knees prickle them a bit, just part of their day He is unconcerned about world affairs and such. Ukraine and Iran mean as little to him as Double Dutch I watch him merrily dancing along, enjoying his day Wishing I...

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Without narrative, isolated as is moments of figuration.. sunlight on the side of a wall frozen in time conversations of unheard voices stillness & paradox.. a welcome to the world come inside.. to reside.. to commune. interplays of imagination.. soundless tunes.. emblematic silences.. symbolism saturated with suggestion. Soft realism where an inner life slowly...

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Sir Reginald Frog Hopper is as stuck up as they come. His arrogance comes from his business, a favorite gum. Few friends he has, actually, no one calls him a chum. He has no knowledge of people, in that, he is kind of dumb....

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inner sensations inhibit the view- life stands...

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expressions of modern existence uncovered in reality...

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an automat whose orbs of light reflect and touch the void of night a refuge from the twenties’ roar trapped in her thoughts without a door a table, cup and gloveless hand alone together in her land a bowl of fruit that sits behind: the 'still life' and her state of mind....

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where is the back road that passes this place - a gas station refuge between nature and night and who is the man with the half hidden face working / existing in ethereal light?...

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bathed in still shadows from an afternoon glow and wrapped inside splendour half faded and gone this house from a time remote silent and slow stands trapped by the past in a world moving on....

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his distant still palette of ambient light painted the silence of hawks in the night catching a sadness that hides in plain sight in an air of detachment that hints at their plight. ...

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It seems I really loved to hop around, to have my feet come off, then back on ground. I got a pogo stick I used all year and wore out quickly once I learned to steer! At 15, I was not the same small kid, for there were other fun things that I did. However,...

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